* * *
Less than an hour later, after the chopper lifted off for the last time, the camp felt utterly desolate. Reid wasn’t sure where Keera was and, right now, standing out here in the compound alone, watching the tail of the helicopter disappear over the ridge, he was spooked. Had to admit it. He was spooked, and it wasn’t about being here so much as it was about what he stood to lose if the camp got caught in the fire.
“It’s getting closer,” Keera called from the porch of the infirmary. She’d been gathering up all the new clothes and toys she’d bought for Megan and packing them into a box to take away with her when she left. “I was looking out the back way, and it’s moved down quite a lot. So, what can we do? Should we be hosing down the buildings or something?”
He could feel the grit of the smoke in his lungs now. Or maybe it was his imagination because that’s what he expected to feel. Either way, she was right. The fire was marching down the side of the mountain like an invading army, and there wasn’t much he could do except put as much gear into the camp van as he could, and keep his fingers crossed.
“If it comes any closer, yes.” Who was he kidding? If the fire came any closer it would take the camp with it no matter what they did.
“Is there anything to pack up and take with us?”
“Don’t know,” he said on a discouraged sigh. “I don’t really have much here that’s of any value. I’ve packed all the girls’ things, and gone through and gathered everything of value the kids left behind. As far as medical equipment...” He shrugged. “It’s insured, and none of it was new to begin with.”
“So why stay?”
“Because I’m the captain of this ship. It’s all I own. When I decided to do this, I invested everything I had in it. Guess it goes to show you how fragile life is, doesn’t it?” He looked up at the fire, which was now visible from their vantage point. A while ago it had only been the smoke threatening Camp Hope, now it was the fire itself.
“But the kids are safe. I talked to Betsy, and they’re having fun on their adventure. The Marston Springs sheriff let the kids all ride in his police car, sirens blaring, and now he’s treating them to ice cream. The doctor there said every last one of them is fine, and the parents have all been notified and are on their way. Deanna Alexander’s already on the way back to Sugar Creek with the girls, so it’s a good outcome, Reid. Maybe not the one you wanted, but everybody is safe. So it’s time to go.”
He looked up into the sky. “Maybe you’re right. But damn it all! Why did this have to happen?”
She took hold of Reid’s hand and walked with him over to where her car was parked next to the camp van. “Life dealt me a pretty bad hand once so I know what bitterness feels like, and it’s not a good feeling because it consumes you, and sucks in everything around you. I understand your bitterness, Reid. But I also understand your strengths, and those strengths will get you through this.”
“My girls,” he said. “They’re my strength.”
“The camp is important for them—for Emmie because she’s a survivor, and even for Allie because she has a connection to leukemia as a donor that few people ever have. So, if it burns down, you’ll build it up again and your girls will be there to help you. It’s as simple as that.”
“Would that be two or three girls?”
“I shouldn’t have said anything. But I thought...”
“You thought one more wouldn’t matter.”
“That’s bad of me, isn’t it?”
“Not bad so much as...unfortunate. Because you’ve got all the qualities. You just don’t want to see them.”
“My qualities.” She laughed bitterly. “Like I told you, my mother was a prostitute, Reid. A prostitute! We lived on the street, half my meals came from whatever I could scrounge from garbage cans, and we were homeless half the time. Or when she did manage a room, she’d put me in the closet while she...she did her thing with the men. Sometimes I lived in cardboard boxes or under bridges, and I hardly ever got to go to school because we never stayed one place long enough.
“Then when I was thirteen, social services finally took me from her, but only because I went to the library every chance I could to read, and confided to my favorite librarian that my mother wanted me to do...do what she did. You know, turn tricks for money because I was developed, and pretty. And young. So I talked to the librarian, who was nice to me, and she helped. If she hadn’t, I don’t even want to think how it might have turned out.
“But after that, after I was in the system, I was wild, couldn’t be controlled, couldn’t be kept in a home because I did everything I could to act up. Kind of like my mother was, come to think of it. But I was smart, which is the only saving grace I had in this life because I whizzed through school once I was allowed to go, and even managed to graduate early. Got scholarships, and the rest...” She shrugged.
“The rest isn’t fit to be called mother because I’m not going to let anything stand in my way of achieving what I need to achieve. That was the only promise I made to myself through everything, and I’ve never broken it. I won’t let anything stand in my way.
“But I know my limitations, and I’m more than ready to admit what I’m not capable of doing. I’ve been a wife once and failed miserably at that, but Kevin moved on to a life he wanted. A child doesn’t have that same option when a parent is bad. I didn’t, and I don’t want to put another child in the same position I was in. Which is why I’d hoped...”
“Hoped I’d keep Megan.”
“So sue me for trying. I don’t want bad things for her. In fact, I want only the best.”
“Which isn’t you?”
“Which isn’t me. But I’m good with it.”
“I saw how reluctant you were to let Megan go a while ago. That’s not being good with it, Keera. If anything, I think you’re kidding yourself. And I’m sorry about your childhood. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like for you, but you persevered. You got through it and look at you now—what you do, who you are. You’re not the little girl who lived in cardboard boxes, and you’re not your mother.”
“Maybe I’m not but...” Pausing, she smiled. “But I’m me, the person I designed me to be. And I didn’t design children into that.”
“Then update the design.”
“What if I did? What if I updated and tried, then somewhere along the way realized that I had been right about it all along? That I wasn’t cut out to be a mother? Or, God forbid, that I was like my mother? What would happen to Megan then? I mean, living in a situation where you’re not wanted. I don’t think you can understand that. It’s desolate. There’s no hope. And I don’t want to do that to her.”
“But what if you discovered that you are cut out to be a mother? Keera, you’re so strong that if you turned out to be like your mother, it would only be by choice. You are who you want to be, and you’re completely in control of that, no matter what you might think.”
“No matter what I might think? What I think, Reid, is that rolling the dice on who I am is taking a big risk. That’s what it would be.”
“But if you’re capable of designing yourself into the person you want to be, and you want to be a mother, doesn’t it stand to reason you can design that into yourself?”
“You’ve got an argument for everything, don’t you?”
“Not everything. But I know I’m right about this. And I do understand how you’re afraid you’ll turn out to be just like your mother. But, Keera, I can promise you that’s never going to happen. You just have to trust yourself more to believe it.”
“Most of my life I’ve tried so hard not to be like her because...”
He took her hand and held it. “Your mother’s life was a choice, Keera. Just like your life is a choice. You get to control what you do, what you want, what you want to include. And your mother has no infl
uence in that because you’ve become your own person.
“I think, though, that you use her as your excuse—to succeed, to excel. You know, be the success you are to prove yourself to the mother who never loved you. The thing is, you can’t change what she was. That part of your life is over with, and whatever bad things you were taken away from are in your past.
“Now you don’t need to have an excuse to succeed, because all the qualities you’ll ever need are in you, totally independent of anything your mother did or was. It’s you, Keera. Not her. You can’t go back and make her love you, and you’re never going to turn into her. So I only hope you’ll find a way to trust that and move on. Because until you do, you’re depriving yourself of happiness and all the good things you deserve.”
“Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I really was on the verge of abandoning Megan here a few nights ago and that, if nothing else, should tell you who I am. I didn’t want her, and I was angry I had to deal with her. You were her doctor, you ran a camp for kids. I saw you as my solution. And I still do, but differently. And that is what my mother would do.”
“But it’s not what you did. That’s the difference. She would have, and you didn’t. That’s all that matters, Keera. You didn’t do it.”
“That tendency is in me, Reid. Can’t you see that? I would have left her here that first night if I’d had the opportunity.”
“That tendency is there because you won’t let your mother go and, subconsciously, you’re sabotaging yourself into thinking you’d be just like her given the opportunity. It’s time to quit trying to prove you’re not her and start trying to prove you’re you. But I can’t be the one to convince you of that. It has to be you.”
“I appreciate your faith in me, as misplaced as it is.”
He’d give her credit for one thing. She was as stubborn as hell, and he didn’t know what it was going to take to crack that shell of hers so she could see what was inside. Truth was, she was afraid to look, afraid of what she might find. Even though he understood why, he still couldn’t understand why she refused to take that hard, objective look and see all the things he saw. Especially when, just a little while ago, she’d actually gone teary over putting Megan on the helicopter.
Well, at least he saw the conflicts for what they were. What he couldn’t see, though, was the reason for his own emotional entanglement. He knew who Keera was and what she resisted, which was essentially everything he wanted in life. Yet he was fascinated. More than fascinated, actually. He was downright captivated, and he didn’t know how to undo that. But he had to. That’s all there was to it. He had to.
CHAPTER NINE
IT WAS TIME to get out, but Reid was still working methodically, trying to pack away as much as he could in the camp van. Just working. Not talking. And not looking at the fire creeping its way across the valley the way she was drawn to looking. Because he didn’t want to see his future. Much the way she didn’t want to see various aspects of her own life. Some things were too painful to face—for both of them.
“Anything else I should get?” she asked him. “I’ve got a little more room for a few small things.” Her eyes stung, her throat ached. Her lungs were fighting for every breath now. But she wasn’t going to leave him here alone.
Pausing in his frantic efforts, he wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand, then shook his head. “I’ve done all I can. It’s time to go. You lead, I’ll follow. We’ll stick to the highway unless it’s too congested, then I’ll call you.”
“When it’s over, Reid, no matter how it goes, maybe I can help you get the camp up and running again. Not so much in the physical sense but I’ve got some contacts, people who might be able to take on some of the responsibility.” She smiled. “I’ve operated on some people in mighty high places, so all I have to do is call.”
“You’d do that?” he asked, walking her to her car. “Stay involved here past, well...past all this?” For the first time since the kids had all gone he looked across the valley at the fire, saw how close it was to the east end of his acreage.
“I would,” she said.
“Why? Why would you be willing to help me when...?”
“When I don’t like kids?”
“That’s not what I was going to say, but it is a good question as you’re not fond of them.”
“See, that’s the thing. I’m not not fond of children. In fact, I’ve enjoyed my association with Megan, and even with your girls. But I lack that elusive thing some people call the parenting gene, so I’m not a nurturer by nature. Which doesn’t mean I’m a kid-hater. More like an avoider.
“But this camp, Reid, it’s so important. I know what we did, what we had was only a one-night thing, and I’m not kidding myself about that. It was good. Fantastic. But it was last night, and today I’m extending my hand in friendship because you’re going to need help with something that’s worthy. Whether or not you accept it is entirely up to you, but the offer stands.
“I’ll help do whatever needs to be done when the time comes, if you want me to. Or stay away, if that’s what you want. But right now let’s just get out of here.”
“Agreed,” he said, as he opened her door for her. “And I’ll see you on the other side of the mountain. Oh, and...” He bent down, gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For everything.”
“Be safe, Reid,” she said, as she moved her car forward. “Please be safe,” she whispered to herself as she looked in her rear-view mirror and saw him climb into his van. “So we can meet on the other side of the mountain.”
* * *
She wouldn’t see what he’d done. And by the time she’d figured out that he’d turned off onto an access road at the edge of the property, she’d be safe in Marston Springs. And he’d be attempting one last-ditch effort, by moving all the volunteers’ cars as far away from the camp enclosure as possible then hosing down the buildings. It wouldn’t be easy, probably wouldn’t even be successful, but he couldn’t go down without this fight. And he couldn’t have fought knowing someone he loved was in the path of danger.
She wasn’t, though. Not now. So parking his van a good distance from the compound, he got out and went, on foot, back to the area, where he started, one by one, to move the cars away. Potential gasoline explosions and all. Although there weren’t any good places to stash them, he did take them to a cleared area on the west side of the property—a baseball field. The first car, then second one. Driving frantically, wishing he didn’t have to waste the time, wishing he could have had his volunteers do this, but knowing they’d had to take care of the children instead.
Still, getting rid of the explosion hazard made him feel like he was doing something, even if it was futile, and as he ran back that nearly quarter-mile to get the next car, he saw a vehicle approaching him. “What the...?”
“I saw the keys in the cars,” she shouted out the window at him. “Figured out you’d want these cars moved at some point if you were going to fight it. Then when I saw you turn off on the access road...”
“You saw that?”
“I’m a surgeon. I observe everything.”
“You can’t do this. Can’t be here.”
“But you are.”
“Seriously? You’re going to get stubborn with me now?”
Rather than answering, she rolled up her car window and continued down the road, while he was left to run back and bring yet another car up. Which was when he met her on the road and stopped. “I’ll be fine here. You don’t need to do this because...”
“Because I want to? Look, Reid. My life doesn’t count for much outside the operating room, but this camp, it adds something and, like you, I’m not going to let it go up in flames without a fight. So...” She gave a shooing gesture then spun away and continued her run down the road to fetch the next car. And so i
t went until all the cars were cleared away.
“Bet we’re not leaving yet, are we?” she asked him when they were both finally back at the compound, running hand in hand.
What they found was not promising. The fire had encroached by jumping the dirt road on the east, and was spreading quickly along the fire trail all the way up to the compound itself—in patchy splotches, though. Thankfully not one great consuming wall of fire. Right now advance small fires were burring rather lazily, like they were waiting for the rest to catch up to them. But they were shooting off blazing embers, one after another. Little bursts of fireworks that would have been lovely in a holiday celebration but so deadly here, and now.
“I’ll get the hose,” Keera said, as Reid went in the opposite direction to grab a shovel.
When she returned with the hose, she saw him smashing the little blazers down as they hit the dirt, ignited the flower garden and a couple of wooden chair sitting on the edge of the compound. Then the tool shed. That’s where Keera went into action, turning on the water and dousing the little wooden structure as best she could.
She had success, initially. The roof suffered damage, but the fire went out without much of a protest and it was a good thing because one of the outlying, unused cabins took an ember to the roof, which quickly had the whole roof flaming, taunting her to come get it, too. Which she did, or tried to. But by the time she dragged the hose over the ground and got it aimed, the roof was already half-gone, which meant the cabin itself wouldn’t be long in following.
“Reid,” she shouted, looking overhead as another burning ember floated merrily on its way, headed towards her cabin! “I can’t contain it here.”
“Get back!” he shouted, as his attention caught on the same ember that had caught hers. “Let it burn, and stay away.”
Not to be deterred by the embers, she did let that cabin go and immediately ran to her own cabin and started to douse at almost the same time as the roof started to blaze. But her position wasn’t good enough and the pine tree that loomed above it caught fire, too, and exploded into flames quicker than anything she’d ever seen burn. Another loss, only this one she fought valiantly, alternately spraying the walls and roof of the cabin as best she could.
A Child to Heal Their Hearts Page 14